


Delirium

by unkindravens



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Coda, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens
Summary: "Despair" codaCas returns one month after being taken by the Empty and Dean deals with it the best way he knows how—with fists and whiskey. Eventually, they both get what they want from one another.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 291





	Delirium

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Neil Gaiman's _The Sandman_ series. Delirium and Despair are siblings and both part of The Endless.

>   
>  Yes Yes
> 
> when God created love he didn't help most  
>  when God created dogs He didn't help dogs  
>  when God created plants that was average  
>  when God created hate we had a standard utility  
>  when God created me He created me  
>  when God created the monkey He was asleep  
>  when He created the giraffe He was drunk  
>  when He created narcotics He was high  
>  and when He created suicide He was low
> 
> when He created you lying in bed  
>  He knew what He was doing  
>  He was drunk and He was high  
>  and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time
> 
> He made some mistakes  
>  but when He created you lying in bed  
>  He came all over His Blessed Universe.
> 
> -Charles Bukowski

  
  
  


Dean looked at the calendar in the kitchen. One month. One month since the angels poured out of the empty, one month since he spat in Chuck’s face. Cas thirty-five days gone, the only one kept in darkness.

He hadn’t left the bunker since. Apparently shit was getting peaceful outside as the hunters left the bunker and tried to reclaim their disintegrated lives. He collapsed at a library table, whisky always attached to his fist, staring. When his eyes were open they didn’t move, when they closed they didn’t sleep. They only saw him, all day. All night. Just blackness eating him, consuming Cas’s smiling face, then nothing. Cas was gone and then there was nothing, only an echo on Dean’s shoulder.

“Cas?”

Dean grunted at Sam. “What about him?”

Sam’s chair scraped the floor. “He’s—”

Dean looked up at the top of the stairs. Trench coat, tie, blue eyes. He hopped from his chair, not wanting to let himself believe… 

Castiel descended to meet them, not saying a word.

“Cas!” Sam ran to the angel and grabbed him in a hug.

Cas’s eyes drifted shut and leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder.

They broke apart and Cas studied the floor as if he’d never seen it.

“Jack!” Sam yelled. He looked at Cas with awe. “How?”

Jack stumbled into the room and froze. He stood for a beat, two, three…

Then sprinted across the room and into Cas like those videos of fathers coming home from war. They gripped each other and swayed. Jack buried his face in Cas’s neck. Cas slowly blinked his eyes and finally looked at Dean.

The blue eyes were actually there in front of Dean. He was awake, this was real. They were real.

Cas gave Jack one last squeeze and then held him at arm’s length, checking him over like a mother hen.

Satisfied the kid was fine, he stepped closer and Dean steeled himself.

“Hello, Dean,” he said.

“What happened?” Dean whispered.

Cas took a step back and looked among the three of them.

“I… was risen. I was in the Empty, but it couldn’t sleep. It was so loud… then quiet, completely still. A while later, I was here. Well, not _here_. Close to here. That was thirty days ago.”

“We beat Chuck a month ago,” Sam said. “That had to be…”

“Why didn’t you come right here?” Dean interrupted. “Why did it take you a _month_?”

Sam glanced at Dean, but he ignored the look of admonition.

Cas smiled wearily. “I had my grace back, but it was… new. Like a fledgling’s. I couldn’t fly, I had to relearn everything. I ended up in Nepal. And Winnipeg. I tried healing animals, I tried to hear my brothers speak, hear prayers, but it was… chaotic. Unstable.”

“You okay now?” Sam asked.

Cas nodded. “It took time, but it got better. I’m in control now.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, hovering near Cas. “You’re… you’re really okay?”

Cas smiled. “I am, Jack. I came here as soon as I could.”

Sam asked something else and Cas wanted to know how the end went down. Dean stood in the same spot, not really paying attention to their words. Cas was back. Again.

Dean tore himself away and, grabbing his glass, walked into the abyss of the dungeon. He stood in the middle of the room, drank, and waited. He waited for Cas, always waiting for him.

Eventually, Cas took a tentative step into the room. “Dean?”

“The deal,” Dean said, “how could you not tell me?”

“Because it was my decision.” Cas stepped closer. “Jack knew, he was there, and I asked him not to tell you and Sam. There was nothing you could have done. I agreed to the Empty taking me and it would have done it then, while we were in Heaven, but it wanted to punish me. To have the promise of eternal darkness hanging over my head until I forgot and allowed myself to be happy only to have that happiness ripped away. It knew it would happen eventually. I knew too. It could have taken years, centuries…”

“You should’ve told me.”

“You couldn’t save me, Dean,” Cas told him. “I knew what would make me happiest, and I couldn’t—”

Dean threw his tumbler across the room, glass smashed and whiskey flowed against the wall. “You should have fucking told me,” Dean growled. “You made another one of your stupid martyr plans and didn’t have the balls to tell me what would happen one day. One day about _me_. What the fuck, Cas?”

“What could you have done?” Cas’s voice rose, matching Dean’s volume. “Blame yourself? Tell me you didn’t want what I wanted, make sure I was never, _ever_ , happy?”

“What if I did want something?” Dean yelled. “Did you even fucking think of that, you stupid son of a bitch?” Dean strode across the room and into Cas’s space, face inches away. “Were you ever planning to say anything?”

“I couldn’t—wouldn’t—tell you. There was no need for you to know. And what did it matter? I said what I wanted to in the end. What I needed to.” Cas’s breath hit Dean’s face, hot.

“And you left!” Dean shouted. He shoved Cas. “You told me you love me and just… just fucking vanished. You left me here!”

“Dean, I’m sorry—”

Dean shoved Cas again. “You’re _sorry_? It fucking broke me.”

“I had to,” Cas said, arms at his sides even as Dean grabbed his trench coat lapels. “Billie was going to kill you and it was the only way to stop her.”

Dean charged forward until he slammed Cas into the wall, glass crunching beneath their feet. Dean pressed his forearm across Cas’s chest, pinning him.

“And that _anger_ you told me didn’t define me? That was the only thing that got me through it, the only thing that made me beat Chuck.” He took a gulp of air. “I was ready to die. I—I fucking _wanted_ it. Death, nothing, Hell, Purgatory, wherever I ended up.”

“You would’ve gone to Heaven,” Cas said softly. He put his hand on Dean’s cheek. “You must know that.”

Dean smacked Cas’s hand away. “And I suppose that made you feel better. About your decision, about leaving us.”

Dean pushed himself against Cas, and his other hand went around Cas’s throat. “You knew how it would end. You knew and you did it anyway. You didn’t tell me. You just gave me this life-fucking-changing information and bounced.”

“I had to go,” Cas gasped.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to say anything. Not one second.”

“For you to say what?” Cas’s eyes flashed with anger and suddenly Dean was sliding across the floor, flung by grace. “What I felt was real and what I said was true.” He stood over Dean. “I didn’t need anything else.”

Dean scrambled to his feet. “Maybe I did. Maybe I needed something—”

It was Cas’s turn to shove Dean against the wall. “You needed nothing,” he hissed. “I gave you _everything_. I saved you. Again.”

“No one asked you to!” Dean knocked Cas away with his chest. “That was real fucking stupid, Cas.”

“I don’t know what you don’t understand about there being no choice.”

Dean reared back and swung his arm. Cas grabbed it inches from his face. “You’re angry with me? Fine.” Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. “It changes nothing.”

Cas shoved Dean’s hand, but Dean’s other fist made contact with Cas’s cheek.

“Fuck you,” Dean snapped, and charged forward until Cas banged into the dungeon wall. “Fuck you for leaving.” Dean punched Cas’s mouth, the back of Cas’s head crunching against the wall. “Fuck you—”

Dean’s fists continued to pummel Cas until the angel pushed him away. Cas jabbed Dean in the jaw, taking him by surprise.

_Yes_. This is what he wanted, what he _needed_ , to feel something for the first time in days.

“Fuck me for what?” Cas asked, boxing Dean’s ear. “For loving you? For rebelling for you? I’m _so_ sorry for taking care of you for the past decade.” They continued to scrabble, following each other around the dungeon. “I saved you. I died for you. I watched you submerge yourself in this… this ridiculous need of yours to feel sorry for yourself—”

Dean got in a punch and blocked another. “I don’t feel sorry for myself. I just know what I am, who I am. I deal with it.”

“Are you? Drowning in whiskey isn’t _dealing_ with something.”

“No!” Dean yelled. “You don’t get to judge me, _angel_. You’re not better than me.”

“I never said I was!” Cas backed away, lowering his hands. “You heard Chuck, I’m broken. I’m just as broken as you think you are.”

“You’re not broken, you just think for yourself,” Dean said, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. “I’m the one who’s fucked up.”

“This isn’t a competition!”

Dean straightened. “The hell it isn’t. You told me everything I do is out of love. You told me it was I was the reason you learned to love. What is it, Cas?”

“You don’t have to be whole to love,” Cas said quietly.

Dean walked away, ran a hand through his hair and down his face, then stepped back to Cas. And grabbed him by his blood-stained tie. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything, I’m not asking for anything. I came back here because I—I thought this was my home. I thought you were my _best friend_.”

“I am,” Dean said, pushing Cas away.

Cas threw up his arms. “That’s all I want!”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Fine,” Cas said, “maybe that’s not _all_ I want, but I know that is all I can have. I’m fine with that, I made peace with it years ago.”

They stared at each other for Dean didn’t know how long. Cas’s face was battered and bloody, a face he’s seen before—a face he’s caused before. He knew he looked the same, he could feel the blood seeping from his ear and nose. Cas’s eyes looked desperate, like when Dean had the mark of Cain, nearly killing Cas.

He stared at Cas’s split lip. Cas’s head tilt with the attention.

Dean stepped into Cas’s space. Dean took Cas’s face in his hands and Cas’s breathing hitched. They stilled, watching each other. Cas didn’t move under Dean’s touch, looking afraid to. Dean smiled, as if either could break this spell.

Dean pulled Cas’s mouth toward his and their lips met. Closed mouth, chaste. Cas’s lips were soft against Dean’s, moving gently.

They pulled apart and stared once more. In each other’s personal space, looking, like they always had been, like they were always meant to.

What happened next was not so gentle. Dean yanked Cas back to his mouth, and Cas circled his arms around Dean’s waist. Cas parted his lips, an invitation and maybe a question, and Dean snaked his tongue inside Cas’s mouth.

Cas’s tongue stroked his and the angel pulled him flush against his chest. Dean tugged his fingers in Cas’s mop of hair. It felt thick and soft, like Dean knew it would. Cas licked into Dean’s mouth and they both groaned. Cas attacked Dean’s tongue and it felt like they were sparring again. They chased each other’s tongues between their mouths, neither able to claim victory.

It felt like life was running through Dean’s veins again. He had been numb for so long, but Cas’s body pulled him out of that cold, lonely place. He felt Cas warm and heavy against his hip, literally making his blood flow faster. He ground against Cas with his own clothed erection and he wished to god they weren’t in the dungeon. They needed a bed, like, now.

A familiar flutter surrounded him and Cas put his hand on Dean’s cheek, running a thumb across his bottom lip, so he could see their surroundings. They were standing in Dean’s room. Cas flung the door closed and Dean heard the lock turn.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked quietly, once again avoiding Dean’s eyes.

Dean nuzzled into Cas’s palm. “Hey,” he said and waited until Cas looked at him. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure.”

“We’re here because I flew us here,” Cas said dryly.

Dean rested his forehead against Cas’s. “I’m glad you did.” He pushed off Cas’s trench coat and his suit jacket. “I want you.”

Dean began unbuttoning Cas’s shirt as Cas struggled to get his hands beneath Dean’s flannel. “Why the fuck do we wear so many layers?” Dean grumbled.

Cas turned Dean and pushed him to the bed. By the time he landed, both he and Cas were naked.

“Better?” Cas’s voice was low as he stalked Dean, circling the bed.

Dean nodded, his mouth a desert. They held each other’s gaze until Dean finally let his eyes drift down Cas’s body. Holy fuck. He knew, well, he knew Cas would look _good_ , like as far as dudes went or whatever, but he was fucking magnificent. Where did those hipbones come from? His arms and legs were just so toned… and his dick.

Dean let out a huff of air. It was dark, cut, and, okay, average, but fuck. It was Cas. He felt Cas’s eyes wander about his body, his breath quickening. Dean held out a hand and Cas all but dove on the bed.

Dean pulled Cas on top of him, relishing the weight. His ribs were tender from the fight and blood was smeared across their faces, but he chased the ache because it was that same ache—longing—he’d felt for the past four weeks. But now it was made flesh as what he ached for was with him, on him.

Cas shifted his hips and their dicks slid together. Dean’s fingernails bit into Cas’s shoulders and he chased the feeling with an arch of his back. Their bodies rolled together and Dean found Cas’s mouth, letting it devour his moans.

Cas kissed his way to Dean’s ear. “What do you want, Dean?”

Dean shivered, not knowing how to ask, how to say what he wanted. “You,” he breathed.

Cas rubbed against him with a pace as slow as torture. “What do you want me to do?” He kissed along Dean’s collarbone and Dean tried to pull strength and courage from the pleasure of Cas’s mouth, but he stayed quiet. Cas had seen his soul. He’d seen everything that makes Dean _Dean_ and Cas still wanted more. He’d never been shy in bed before, but what he wanted…

“I want you inside me,” Dean managed to choke out. Cas faltered a moment, breaking the rhythm of their hips.

“Are you sure?” Cas nipped Dean’s ear and sucked at the spot behind it, making Dean’s toes curl.

“Please,” Dean rasped. “Please fuck me, Cas. I need you.”

Cas slowly kissed his way down Dean’s chest and pecked at each nipple. How the fuck did Cas learn how to do that?

“Do you have lubricant?” Cas asked, hands running down Dean’s thighs.

He nodded and reached to his nightstand, wincing as he pulled the tube from the top drawer.

Cas sat back, surveying the cuts and bruises across Dean’s torso.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said. “I should have healed you.”

He laid a hand on Dean’s chest and Dean the warmth of Cas’s grace spread through his entire body like an old friend. The marks he left on Cas’s body disappeared as well.

Cas picked up the lube and squeezed its fingers before pressing two against Dean’s entrance.

“Wait, Cas, you gotta—”

Cas’s fingers easily fell inside Dean and he instinctively pushed down on Cas’s, feeling like they weren’t enough.

“Did you—”

“Yes,” Cas said, his voice somehow rougher than usual, “I prepared you with my grace, I hope that is alright as we both seem somewhat impatient.”

“Fuck yes,” Dean panted. Cas pushed another finger inside and grazed Dean’s prostate. His hips jerked from the touch and the buzz that swarmed his body. “Cas,” he whined.

Cas withdrew his fingers and Dean let his thighs fall open. He was transfixed as Cas coated his cock in lube and lined it up against Dean.

“Please,” Dean gasped.

Cas leaned over and sank himself entirely inside Dean and stayed still as Dean adjusted to his size. Cas filled him with a stretch unlike anything Dean had ever experienced. He canted his hips to encourage Cas to move.

Cas slid nearly all the way out and back again. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas and pulled him deeper. Cas was beautiful, eyes squeezed shut, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his lips.

Dean’s eyes drifted closed. He needed to be filled with Castiel, needed to feel them joined, to know, for that moment, Cas couldn’t leave. Cas was with him and inside him and it was Dean’s entire world.

“Harder,” Dean grunted, needing to feel _more_.

Cas took Dean’s thighs and pressed them forward, allowing him to drive forcefully into Dean.

“Cas… fuck,” Dean keened. He took his own knees in his hands and greedily spread them further.

His body heaved with each thrust from Cas, hard and deep. Cas repeatedly hit his prostate and Dean knew he wouldn’t last. He opened his eyes to find Cas starting at him. Cas murmured something in Enochian, it sounded like a prayer, but kept his eyes locked on Dean’s and drove faster inside him.

“Dean…”

Dean’s hand flew to his cock at the familiar sound of his name. He wanted to last, wanted Cas inside him forever, but there was no way. He jerked himself to the brutal rhythm Cas set. He closed his eyes again, concentrating on nothing but how Cas felt inside him.

He felt Cas’s breath on his face. Dean’s other hand clawed down Cas’s back, hurting him, marking him.

“I’m yours,” Cas slurred as he quickened his pace.

“Fuck!” Dean came between them, coating his chest. He stroked his way through the long orgasm and Cas’s hips stuttered to a stop as he came. The bedside lamp shattered and Dean heard a whoosh and the shadow of Cas’s wings appeared above him. Cas filled him, hot and sticky.

Cas collapsed against Dean, both trying to catch their breaths. Dean curled himself around Cas, arms and legs keeping Cas in place. They stayed that way as Cas softened inside him, until Cas finally pulled out, making Dean whine with loss.

Cas mojo-ed away the mess and pulled Dean’s blanket to cover them both. Cas pulled Dean to his chest, stroking his hair. In the quiet Dean felt like he was sinking into Cas, that his body was no longer his own and he was fine with that.

“Are you all right, Dean?”

Dean didn’t notice when he started crying. He gripped Cas tight by the waist and nodded.

“Is… is this real?” Dean asked. “You’re here?”

“I am,” Cas whispered into his temple.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

Dean sniffled, but satisfied Cas would stay, his eyes closed and drifted close to sleep.

“Is this what you want?” Cas’s voice sounded small as it interrupted Dean’s near-slumber.

“Is what what I want?” Dean asked with a yawn.

Cas shifted beneath Dean and held him closer. “Me,” he answered softly. “This.”

Dean propped himself on an elbow and looked down at Cas. The angel’s eyes were large and damp.

He had thought about this many times since Cas left. Fuck, he’d thought about it _before_ Cas left. It was terrifying, standing on a cliff and not knowing what the fall would feel like, if he would land. But… Cas had wings. What if it worked? What if it was okay?

Dean took a deep breath and told his brain to fuck off. “I want you. I want you like this, Cas, in my bed. In my life,” his voice cracked. “I should’ve said something before… I should’ve tried…”

“It’s okay,” Cas whispered. He stroked Dean’s cheek. “I’m here now and we’re together.”

“For real,” Dean stated.

Cas nodded. “I’m yours. My body, my grace, it’s yours, Dean.”

Dean snuggled back down against Cas. The rise and fall of Cas’s breath lulled Dean into a finally peaceful sleep. Before he slipped into the twilight, Dean whispered, “Yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/corvidapocalypse)


End file.
